Stringendo
by adumbratus
Summary: Prompt: "Embarrassing parents forcing them to be friends which blossoms into more." When new neighbors move into the house across from the Beilschmidt, Gilbert gets to know Roderich Edelstein. And gets to like him...


Prompt 5:

Embarrassing parents forcing them to be friends which blossoms into more. (from )

"Well… what do you wanna do?"

He sat on my bed and looked around uncomfortably. He didn't fit into my room. He didn't fit to me.

Not only because he wore this dark purple sweater with a fitting plaid dress shirt underneath that looked like his mom had ironed it seven times, but also because he himself looked like his mom ironed him seven times. He sat there with a straight back, tensed shoulders and restless eyes like he was afraid to touch my bed. Maybe he just was afraid that he could touch something disgusting or he just didn't want to mess it up.

Now is of course in question: Why the heck is he here? With me. In my room.

And the simple answer is: Because our parents said so. Because they want us to. Our parents (more specifically our moms) are dictators. There had been this day last week, when a cupcake was suddenly standing in front of our door. Not literally of course, but his mom just looked like a cupcake. Bouffant hair, a flowy dress and many bright accessories and she even talked like you'd expect of a cupcake. Her voice was so melodic that it was annoying. And my mom adapted this voice.

It was this "Oh wow, I'm so happy we've got new neighbors, it's so nice to meet you, let's drink tea, become great friends and dance on rainbows"-voice.

"Yeah, I think I already saw your son, he looks like such a nice boy!", ('boy' articulated in an octave from a high pitch downwards like 'uuaaaaahh' – annoying), "Maybe he wants to come over soon, I guess Gilbert would be happy to get to know him."

And I was standing on the staircase and was like: "No, I'm totally not happy to get to know him! Moom!", but of course I didn't say that (my mom would probably kill me if I did…).

And now he was sitting there. And I was sitting in my swivel chair and swiveled around all the time.

"I…"

"Sweetheart, would you like some chocolate cookies?"

My mom didn't make chocolate cookies in three months. And she didn't call me 'sweetheart' for a year, 'cause it was embarrassing. And now she called me 'sweetheart' and made chocolate cookies. I should be scared…

"Yeah, uh – wait here, I'm getting chocolate cookies,", I talked to him like I was afraid he would escape out the window (well, it could be possible…), "my mom's are the best, the very best!", I said in the doorframe and headed downstairs.

I just glared slightly at my mom, but didn't say anything. Seriously, mom. Seriously.

"I have chocolate cookies.", talking about the obvious.

"Thank you. They are looking… good."

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating cookies and playing a cardboard game. I hadn't touched my cardboard games since I had been ten years old or something, so I dusted them off inconspicuously, because dust collected on top of them as thick as a finger.

And actually it had been… quite nice. Kind of embarrassing, but cardboard games and cookies saved the day.

I didn't ask him if he wanted to meet some other time, because I felt… kinda stupid about that. When I saw him to the door, my mom luckily wasn't there. Otherwise she would have probably asked him if he wanted to come over some time again or something. My mom scolded me a little for not doing so, but I promised that I would next time I saw him. I hoped she would forget about that.

But soon I saw him on the street getting out the garbage and I felt guilty for not inviting them and then I was like: "Hey… uhh… would you like to come over this afternoon, I have a new video game we could play, if you like video games, uh, do you, I mean…?"

He smiled shortly and said: "Today's afternoon I've got sports, but if you had time tomorrow's afternoon, I would gladly come over."

"Yeah, 's fine."

"Ok, I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

Seriously?

"I haven't really played video games yet."

"Are you kidding me?", I had to suppress laughter. He was really what I thought of him.

"No, I'm not."

"You've never played any video games?"

"Well, I had a Nintendo, when I was smaller. But this is… kinda different.", he looked at the controller like at a strange object from Juppiter.

"You're surprising me."

"In a negative way?"

"No, I just… what are you doing the whole day?", I grinned.

"I like… to read. And I play the piano."

"Piano. Hm. Impressive. I don't have any piano playing game, but maybe you'd want to start out with 'Guitar Hero'?"

And so we played 'Guitar Hero'. I hadn't played it that often. I didn't have that many friends since an argument with some and my little brother went to a boarding school, because he had impressive grades. And 'Guitar Hero' was… boring after some time of playing alone. At least for me.

This time it wasn't just polite fun – we were laughing. I thought him an arrogant 'stick up the ass'-snob, not being able to laugh except in a despising way – but he did. And he had a beautiful laugh. He often tried to suppress it, by putting an hand over his mouth or trying to laugh as quietly as possible, but after a time he broke down laughing the same way I did all the time. Once he even had to take off his glasses to wipe away tears.

"Would you like to come over this weekend?", he asked and smiled.

"Yeah, sure."

"And tell your mom that her cookies were formidable."

What a proper gentleman.

His room was full of books. I had read also a lot, when I was younger, I loved books, but after a while this love had just… faded somehow.

"This is amazing! You've read them? You've read them all?"

"Not all, I still have to read these three here…"

"Crazy…"

"I had been hearing of a german book critic reading at least 30 books a year and I thought you couldn't do wrong with this."

I laughed: "You are crazy, dude!", I let my fingers glide over the backs of the thousand books stacked up in his shelves, "And which one was the best?"

"Hm… depends on which genre. I don't think you should compare books like that, but I really liked 'Radetzkymarsch' by Joseph Roth."

I had to break out in laughter.

"What? Do you think this is stupid?"

"No, I think you should become a book critic yourself."

Between the endless number of books, there were many booklets with sheet music. Beethoven, Mozart, Bach…

"So… where is your piano?"

"In the garage."

I exploded with laughter. He led me to the garage.

"God, you have a motherfucking Yamaha grand piano in your god damned garage!"

In the middle of the grey tiled garage there was standing a huge black grand piano. It was so not fitting – similar to Roderich in my room. The piano looked all polished and beautiful and the surroundings looked more like… like… garage? In the corners there were bikes and hoses and broom and in the middle there was a piano.

"And what are you doing with your car?"

"It's parked in front of the garage most of the time anyways. And I wanted the grand piano. Very much. And my parents did everything to grant me this wish. Do you want to hear something?"

"Are you kidding me? Sit down and play, god dammit!"

He grinned slightly and sat down.

Roderich and the piano. He should marry this fucking thing. It was like a couple was all lovey-dovey kissing and I was the friend pretending to be not there.

And he began to play. And I thought: Shit, I do not even belong here! And he played and played and then he turned around, looked at me, while playing and said: "You don't have to stand there in the doorway. Come closer."

Getting closer to the object of admiration and beginning to admire the object of admiration even more.

His expression was calm and satisfied with the world and himself. All politicians should be or at least see Roderich and his motherfucking piano – there wouldn't be any war or hate on this planet.

I didn't know what he was playing. I didn't care what he was playing. It was so beautiful it almost got me to the edge of crying. I was the snake in the basket and he was the flute, hypnotizing me with movement and sound and I stood there with my hands awkwardly behind my back, my palms sweating, fingers shaking. I hadn't been that nervous since I had to recite this stupid poem in front of Santa Claus the Christmas when I was six years old.

I didn't even know which expression my face should wear. It went just blank. The tune echoed through the whole garage and possibly through the whole universe.

Destiny wanted me to stand next to Roderich and his piano in this garage.

Destiny wanted me to see Roderich and his beauty in this right moment.

I just stood there in emotional devotion. Hot awe.

"What do you think?"

"Well, it was beautiful."

"I'm happy to hear you saying that."

I'm not happy to hear me saying that, 'cause it's bullshit. I could at least have said that it was way too beautiful to be described by words.

I'm thinking about writing on. I'm sorry for some mistakes, I'm a non-native speaker. I'm german. Lol.

Please tell me what you think.


End file.
